Hap Rules
by Lewis Napper

My father “Hap” was an extraordinarily good animal trainer. He was a farmer and rancher his whole life. When he was a child, he and his family lived like wacko environmentalists – off the grid and off the land. Of course they did it out of necessity but the point is that he was very in tune with nature and uncanny with animals.

He used the same rules to train his kids that he used to train dogs and horses. The primary, foundation rules went like this:

1) Don’t ask for anything unless you absolutely must have it.
2) If you ask for it, get it, every time so that there’s no confusion.

Hap trained me to train animals and I did well with dogs, but I never had the relationship with horses that he did. Horses were happy to see Hap. Any horse would follow Hap anywhere. It seemed that they wanted to do whatever it was that he wanted them to do. I tried to emulate my Dad in every way and do exactly what he did, but something was missing. I didn’t have “the gift” for horse training that my Dad did.

Decades later I was frustrated with the latest addition to our family – a dog my daughter rescued named “Wally”. Wally got off to a rough start in life. We don’t know her whole story but she was hurt and bleeding on the side of the road when my daughter picked her up and brought her home.

Wally and I got off to a rough start too. When Wally and I first met, she immediately had an accident on the floor and then used her wagging tail to swipe some of it up into my face. I didn’t lose my temper, but I think Wally could tell that was not my favorite greeting.

Time went by and Wally just would not do what I said. She had no interest in doing what I said. Finally, one day Kimberly explained why, “Wally doesn’t think you love her and if you don’t love her, she doesn’t care what you think.”

But that was wrong, I did love Wally. I dearly loved Wally for saving my daughter’s life. But Wally wasn’t feelin’ it. So I focused all my attention on making sure that Wally knew how I truly felt. It wasn’t long at all until Wally and I were getting along like peas and carrots.

Then it finally dawned on me. That was Hap’s trick. That’s what I was missing. It didn’t matter that Hap and I sounded exactly alike and moved exactly alike and did exactly the same things. The gift was that the horses knew that Hap loved them.